


Everything (Bach Double Violin Concerto)

by Apsacta



Series: Coloratura [1]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apsacta/pseuds/Apsacta
Summary: "All of this…” Brett makes wild gestures towards the room, his violin on the table, himself… “All of this… the violin… the music. It only ever made sense with you Eddy… "
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: Coloratura [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675777
Comments: 27
Kudos: 124





	Everything (Bach Double Violin Concerto)

The moment he stops on the street corner, Brett hears Oistrakh and Menuhin play the first few notes of the Bach double in his head. It’s late and the sky is a dark shade of blue, with tiny stars trembling in the distance. He looks up, absent-mindedly traces constellations with his eyes, follows the ebbs and flows of the music in his head. It’s so beautiful he could cry. They’re so clean, so light, _so_ _in tune_. He has no words to describe how this is everything to him...

He closes his eyes to concentrate on the music while he waits, taps his foot in rhythm on pavement. Feels the comforting weight of his violin on his back. Feels his chest swell with the music. It’s perfect.

(Almost)

The night is cold and so he sticks his hands in his pockets. His fingers come in contact with the sharp edges of an envelope and he sucks in a breath. The music in his head starts derailing. His eyes fly open. The sky is pitch black now. He tries to look for the stars. The tempo accelerates. All he sees are bright neon lights reflected in dirty windows. The buildings are too tall, built so haphazardly that they look like they’ll fall down at any moment. He feels dizzy.

Brett remembers where he is. Sees the neighbourhood for what it is. The music in his head accelerates again. Menuhin loses musicality first. Starts rushing. Gets sharper. Brett’s fingers curl around the envelope. He tries to take a deep breath. Loses track of the music. Oistrakh forgets to come in. Anxiety skyrockets. It’s a cacophony in Brett’s head.

Eddy’s late.

> _Brett’s twelve and he’s just had the best music lesson ever. His teacher, who’s usually never happy with anything Brett plays, complimented him on his progress, and even praised his technique. He feels like he could fly._
> 
> _He hurries down the metal staircase going down the side of the old building. He shouldn’t be running. His mum would kill him if she saw. She’s always going on about how it’s dangerous, how the neighbourhood is poor and that the buildings are going to fall down on themselves one day. Brett knows she doesn’t like him coming here. But she also wants a good teacher for him. The best. And his teacher is the best, regardless of where he lives. So she lets Brett go to his lesson in the poorest and dirtiest neighbourhood of town on the condition that he waits for her on the corner of the street when the lesson is over, and doesn’t move from there._
> 
> _With a delighted chuckle, Brett jumps down the stairs and hurries to the corner. His teacher’s words echo in his head. ‘Well done Brett’, ‘Excellent work’, ‘You’ll be a great violinist if you continue to practice this way’…_
> 
> _He doesn’t see the tiny boy rushing up the street, or the boy doesn’t see him and runs straight into Brett’s chest, knocking all the air out of his lungs. Brett sways, but – thank Violin Gods – doesn’t fall. The boy does. Flat on the ground. Face first._
> 
> _“The fu…” Brett says, stopping himself just before swearing._
> 
> _“I’m so sorry, oh God I’m so, sooo, so sorry,” the boy rambles in a panicky voice, and Brett’s face softens._
> 
> _“It’s nothing,” he begins, before realising that the boy is not talking to him. He’s talking to the violin case next to him on the ground._
> 
> _Panic similar to that in the boy’s voice fills Brett’s chest as he kneels down next to the violin case. The little boy opens it with trembling hands. Thankfully the violin’s still safely strapped, not a splinter in sight._
> 
> _They both sigh heavily._
> 
> _“Lucky,” Brett mutters._
> 
> _The boy looks up at him and sees the violin case strapped to Brett’s back._
> 
> _“It’s you!” he says excitedly. “You play violin too we have the same teacher my lesson is just after yours…” He’s said it all without breathing, and blushes furiously immediately after._
> 
> _Brett laughs, and extends a hand to help the boy up. He’s tiny and looks so much younger than Brett. His eyes are wide, and right now, his entire face is red, including his ears._
> 
> _“I’m Brett,” Brett says._
> 
> _“Eddy,” the boy replies. He grins, and his entire face lights up. “Maybe… maybe we can play together some day,” he says. “I’ll ask our teacher.”_
> 
> _Before Brett has time to reply, Eddy’s running up the staircase. “I’m late,” he shouts with a wave._

Brett gets in the establishment through the backdoor. He pushes the rusty metal door open, almost falls forward, and lands in the kitchen. From behind the stove, the cook raises an eyebrow. Brett nods a hello. The clock on the wall tells him that they’ve got fifteen minutes before going on stage. That he’s got fifteen minutes before going on stage. 

“Alone again?” Fred asks as he sautés the noodles in an old pan.

Brett’s nose scrunches up.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

‘ _He’s going to come_ ’, he thinks in his head. He doesn’t dare voicing it. Eddy’s barely showed up twice these last two months. But tonight… Brett’s mind drifts back to the envelope in his pocket. Tonight Eddy has to come.

He has to.

They are supposed to play the Bach double tonight.

> _A year has passed and Brett has forgotten about the boy on the corner of the street completely when his teacher asks him to stay after one lesson, so he can start practicing a duet with another student. Brett’s not feeling supremely confident in this, but he trusts his teacher, so he stays._
> 
> _He doesn’t immediately recognise the other student as the boy from the fall. Too long ago. Plus the boy – Eddy, that’s his name – has grown quite a bit. He’s still smaller than Brett, but doesn’t look as young anymore. In fact, Brett thinks that they have to be about the same age._
> 
> _Eddy, on the other hand, recognises Brett immediately. He’s literally beaming when he gets in – late – and starts talking as if they’re old friends._
> 
> _Brett’s quite annoyed at first. He’s not here to make friends. But then Eddy starts playing, and_ _Brett changes his mind. Eddy’s good, exceptionally so. Brett’s always been good with technique, but Eddy’s got musicality. He feels the music, knows where to take it. Plus, as Brett learns during the lesson, he’s got perfect pitch. So Brett gets him to tune his violin from then on._
> 
> _The first time they play their duet, it’s a catastrophe. One of them is rushing, or slowing down, they’re not in sync, they get nervous and their playing gets sharp. It’s like it’s never going to work. But slowly they get there._
> 
> _By the end of the first lesson, they learn to look at each other, give and receive cues. By the end of the third one, they can follow each other’s rhythm. By the fifth or sixth lesson, they’re starting to sound good. By the end of the year, their teacher makes them perform in front of the parents, and they earn thunderous applause._
> 
> _Somewhere in the middle, Brett takes Eddy to a bubble tea shop after a lesson and they start building their friendship._

Ten minutes. A shabby red drape separates the practice room from the stage. Behind it, he hears the noises of guests dining and gambling. He touches the envelope in his pocket. The clock ticks in rhythm with his anxiety.

Brett places his violin case on a wonky table and takes the instrument out with infinite care.

He starts tuning.

Eddy’s still not there.

> _“Brett, dude, bro!” Eddy says excitedly as they meet on the corner of the street, down where their old music teacher used to live. He’s literally beaming, and Brett can’t help smiling too._
> 
> _“Yeah?”_
> 
> _“I found us a job!” Eddy’s so excited he can barely stand still. “We’re done busking in the rain for nothing.”_
> 
> _“You found us a job? As musicians?” Brett’s intrigued. He’s almost seventeen and he could do with the extra money. They don’t earn as much now as they did when they were kids. He blames it on Eddy. He used to be the cutest kid. It was impossible for adults not to give them money when they saw them performing together on the street. Now Eddy’s a lanky teenage boy with bones sticking everywhere, and sure, he’s still cute, but not let’s-give-this-kid-our-money cute._
> 
> _“Of course, as musicians.” Eddy rolls his eyes._
> 
> _“Where?”_
> 
> _Eddy shows him the sign at the end of the alley, and Brett frowns. It’s a casino of sorts. The shady, not very legal, not very respectable sort. Brett’s about to say something, but doesn’t. This is Eddy’s world, he remembers. This is where Eddy grew up. Brett doesn’t want to inadvertently say something that would hurt him. Something that would remind Eddy that once they’re done busking, Brett goes back to a nice house in the suburbs, with a nice family and puppy playing in a nice garden and everything._
> 
> _“My uncle knows someone, who knows someone… you know the deal,” Eddy says, not noticing Brett’s reaction. “They’re looking for musicians every Friday evening. They’re willing to give us a try. Isn’t it great? They’ll pay!”_
> 
> _“Nice. Imagine all the bubble teas that’ll get us!”_
> 
> _Eddy grins, and throws his arm around Brett’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s dazzle them with our talent.”_
> 
> _They both laugh._

_Five minutes._

Brett plays a series of scales to warm up.

He doesn’t remember exactly when he realised how different his and Eddy’s lives were. Doesn’t remember when he started to worry about Eddy all the time.

Maybe when Eddy showed up with a black eye and a bloodied shirt for the first time. ‘ _Not mine_ ’, he had mumbled upon seeing Brett’s eyes widen in shock, before tuning his violin.

Maybe when Eddy’s started being late for half of their busking sessions. ‘ _Not my fault_ ’, he had grunted in response to Brett’s enquiring looks. ‘ _Something came up_ ’.

Maybe when Eddy started responding to Brett’s plans about going to music uni together a lot less enthusiastically, and then stopped talking about it altogether. ‘ _Not gonna happen_ ’, he had whispered with a shrug of his shoulders, as if he didn’t care about it.

Brett does remember how he felt all these times. Remembers the tightening in his chest. The rage in his lungs as he felt Eddy slipping away through his fingers. Even now, his shoulders tense at the thought.

Eddy deserves music more than half of the pricks at music uni. There’s more musicality in Eddy’s pinky finger than in their entire bodies combined. It makes Brett angry to think about all that Eddy’s been deprived of. His bow skids. He swears. Starts the scale again.

“Out of tune, mate,” he hears behind him as the door opens.

> _It’s Friday evening, and all of Brett’s friends are probably excited to meet at some house party somewhere. Brett’s not. He’s excited to meet his best friend in the backroom of a shabby gambling den in a part of town where none of his school friends would ever hang out. But no party, no matter how glorious the surroundings, can ever compare to the thrill of playing music with Eddy. They’ve perfected their duets so much that they’re (almost) always in sync now. Sometimes Brett dreams of a future where they play music together. They play Navarra on stages and hundreds of people applaud them._
> 
> _He doesn’t tell Eddy. He doesn’t want him to laugh. But it’s a nice dream._
> 
> _Tonight, he’s also excited because he has some big news to tell Eddy. He’s prepared a little speech and everything. But as per usual, Eddy arrives at the last minute. They only have time to run through the piece once before they’re due on stage, so Brett saves his announcement for later._
> 
> _He’s so excited when he gets off the stage that he completely forgets what he’s planned to say. He just blurts it out._ _“I got my acceptance letter from the Con this morning,” he says as soon as they’re alone. “I couldn’t wait to tell you…”_
> 
> _Eddy’s reaction is not what Brett expected. He thought Eddy would be as excited as he is, jumping up and down with that bright smile Eddy seems to reserve just for Brett. Instead, Eddy’s face falls. "_ _Oh yeah? Good… good,” he says._
> 
> _Brett frowns. “What the hell, bro,” he says, eyes widening. “I thought you’d be happy for me… what’s with that face?”_
> 
> _Eddy looks ashamed for a second, and then shakes his head. “I am. I am happy for you.” It looks as if it’s difficult for him to say the words, and Brett feels his enthusiasm deflate._ _“No, it’s really good, I’m glad,” Eddy says, trying to muster enthusiasm. He looks like he feels so guilty that Brett almost feels sorry for him. “Just… just don’t forget about me when you make all your new musician friends, hey?” Eddy tries to smile, but fails miserably._
> 
> _Brett laughs. “Forget you? Bro, it’s just one year. I won’t forget you. And then the next year you’ll join me. It’ll be so great. We’re going to learn so much!”_
> 
> _Eddy’s face falls even more. “Not gonna happen,” he mutters._
> 
> _Brett’s stomach drops. “What do you mean, not gonna happen?”_
> 
> _Eddy lowers his head. “There’s no money. Plus the family wants me to start working. I won’t… yeah, no.”_
> 
> _Brett’s mood drops completely. He tries to offer Eddy a trip to the bubble tea shop and then they can talk it through. Surely with the two of them, they can find a solution. But Eddy just shakes his head._
> 
> _“Got a job to do,” he mutters darkly. “Sorry for ruining your day.”_ _There's a tear glistening at the corner of his eye._
> 
> _Brett feels sick._

Eddy’s there and Brett beams brightly.

“You’re too tense, dude,” Eddy says, returning Brett’s smile. He makes a move like he’s going to massage Brett’s shoulders, but then he stops. There's a shadow on his face for a second, but it disappears as suddenly as it came.

“And you’re late, dude,” Brett retorts.

Eddy snorts. “I’ll have you know I’m…” – he looks at his watch - “… three minutes early.”

Brett doesn’t know whether to hug Eddy or slap him. Does neither.

“Let’s tune, hey,” Eddy says, taking out his violin.

> _“We can still play together every Friday,” Brett says as the semester starts. “Me being at the Con doesn’t change anything.”_
> 
> _Eddy nods. “Sure. Every Friday. Like the good old days.”_
> 
> _“Like the good old days…”_
> 
> _“And maybe…” Eddy hesitates. “Maybe you can tell me about all the things you learned at the Con, yeah?”_
> 
> _Brett’s eyes sparkle. “Yes,” he says, a little too loud, a little too happy, like he’s found the solution to every problem. “Dude, that’s it. I’m gonna teach you everything I learn. It’ll be like you’re there.”_
> 
> _Eddy nods. His smile’s a little sad. “Yeah, it’ll be like I’m there.”_
> 
> _The next Friday evening, he doesn’t show up._

They play the Bach double on stage and it’s everything Brett hoped it would be.

Most of the audience doesn’t really care. The two violinists are just background noise. They’re only there to give a semblance of class to a dingy gambling den. It’s all the same for Brett and Eddy. They’ve got each other and they’ve got music. It swells around them, envelops them, protects them.

They end the first movement looking at each other. In the room, one person lazily claps. The musicians wince at the same time. It’s like they’re connected. They’re still looking in each other’s eyes.

A rest.

Eddy plays the first notes of the second movement, the _largo ma non tanto_.

For a few seconds Brett feels like he’s about to ascend to heaven. He looks at Eddy, and it’s just so, so, _so_ overwhelming that something in his chest tightens. He looks at Eddy, and Eddy looks at him, and smiles.

Brett thinks he could get lost in that smile. And suddenly he sees it all. The child he met all these years ago, all scrawny limbs and toothy grins, shy eyes and innocent laughter. The teenage boy, lanky and a little insecure, with moody eyes and frustrated frowns. The young man, broad shoulders and confident posture, standing next to him with an intense look in his eyes. All the Eddies look back at him, and he can barely breathe. But then it’s his turn to come in. He takes a deep breath, lifts his bow…

> _It’s the second time Eddy’s not showing up for their Friday evening gig, and Brett’s pissed. He’s about to send him a strongly worded text, when Eddy shows up, with barely a minute to spare, a black eye, and a busted lip._
> 
> _Brett’s eyes widen. “Mate, what’s that?”_
> 
> _Eddy shrugs. It’s not the first time he’s showed up with bruises. But this time it’s kind of bad, and Brett can’t just shrug it off._
> 
> _“No, Eddy, who did that?”_ _Brett feels his blood boil in a way that he’s not used to. He doesn’t really do anger. Except when it’s got to do with Eddy. It’s difficult to control himself when he thinks of someone hurting Eddy._
> 
> _“It’s fine, we’ve got to get on stage, hurry” Eddy urges._
> 
> _Brett shakes his head, though. He takes Eddy’s face in his palms. Feels it carefully with the tips of his fingers._ _“Dude, that’s fucked up. Let me clean you up.”_
> 
> _Eddy tries to protest, but Brett’s already in the kitchen to get a wet cloth. He thinks he’s felt Eddy shiver when he touched his face. He wonders if it means anything._

Brett gets off the stage feeling like he’s walking on clouds. It’s an elating feeling that leaves him light-headed.

“Dude,” he says, beaming at Eddy, “we were good.”

Eddy nods. He looks ecstatic.

“I feel like I’ve just had a religious experience,” Brett continues. “Like… I don’t know, like I could see the light or some other shit…” He’s so happy he feels like he can’t stop talking.

“You look like you’re high, mate,” Eddy says with a shit-eating grin.

“Have you seen your face?”

“Hmm?”

“This was so good… we were so good. We should celebrate.”

“Yeah?” Eddy sounds unsure, all of a sudden.

But Brett pushes forward. He’s bouncing around, overexcited. “Yeah. We never go out. Let’s. We can get drunk, dance, have fun. As a reward.”

“Okay,” Eddy nods, slowly letting himself be convinced.

“Good, excellent. This is perfect, bro,” Brett rambles as he gets his coat and waits by the door while Eddy gets their money for the performance. He’s got his violin on his back and his best friend by his side. Everything’s good.

The cold air outside hits them as they exit the building. Brett shivers. He digs him hands in his pockets in search of warmth. Touches something with hard edges. Remembers the envelope. It’s like a bucket of ice-cold water in his heart. His mood shifts. He stumbles.

“Are you drunk already?” Eddy jokes as he catches him. Then he sees Brett’s face and his smile falters. “Hey, bro, you okay?”

Brett shakes his head. Feels anxiety wash over him. It’s so dumb. He feels so dumb. It means nothing. Nothing’s going to change. He can’t breathe. Grabs at Eddy’s sleeve with needy fingers.

“Breathe,” Eddy says gently. “Breathe.”

But it’s no help.

“Yeah, no going out tonight,” Eddy says, softly. “I’m walking you home.”

“Sorry,” Brett heaves. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay, dude. Let’s get you home.”

By the time they get to his front door, Brett’s somewhat calmer, but his fingers are still shaking. Eddy has to take his keys from him to open the door. He helps him up the stairs.

“Room’s on the last floor,” Brett mutters. He feels so ashamed. He’s sure he’s red from his ears to his chest. “I – I’m really sorry.”

“ ‘S fine,” Eddy whispers as he opens Brett’s door.

Brett goes straight to the sink. He grips it until his skin turns white before eventually pouring himself a glass of water. He drinks slowly, giving himself time to breathe. He feels like he's fucked up everything again, and he's angry and disappointed at himself. He’s ready to apologize again but Eddy shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he says, “happens to everyone.” He looks around. “Nice place.”

Brett doesn’t see what is nice about the tiny studio he’s spent his student years in, but doesn’t say anything. He wished it would be less messy. There's books and notes and sheet music absolutely everywhere. So much sheet music littered about the place, and he doesn't want Eddy to think that he doesn't take care of his things. Plus, there's a few shirts strewn across the bed. If Brett had known he’d have Eddy around, he would’ve cleaned. Or at least hidden the mess in the closet. He feels like he should apologise again, or at least explain. But he says nothing.

“I’m gonna let you rest,” Eddy says. “We’ll go out some other time.” He absent-mindedly runs his fingers through Brett’s hair. The gesture is both tender and intimate. Brett’s not used to this. He feels a shiver down his neck, and a pleasant warmth in his chest. He wonders if Eddy’s too tired to realise what he’s doing, perhaps.

“Wait,” Brett says. Inside his pocket, the envelope weighs a ton. He breathes in slowly to give himself courage, then fishes it out. Hands it to Eddy, who looks at it like he doesn’t understand.

“For you,” Brett says, feeling his heart in his throat for some reason.

Eddy takes it hesitantly and opens it. His eyes scan the invitation. He nods. Then he lets out a shaky sigh.

“You’re graduating next week,” he says blankly. “I forgot. Congratulations, man.” He doesn’t sound like he means it.

“Yeah…”

Brett’s not disappointed by Eddy’s reaction. He expected it.

“I’m proud of you,” Eddy says, his voice still strangely blank.

“Yeah…”

“What – what next? Do you – do you know what you’re gonna do next? Study abroad to become a soloist? Or maybe – maybe audition for some big shot orchestra?” Eddy’s voice is clearly trembling now.

That’s what Brett’s been scared of all along. Not the graduation, but what comes next. Moving on. Moving away. Leaving Eddy behind. It hurts.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it yet.” He lies.

Silence.

They’re both looking at the ground.

“Will – will you come?” Brett asks, breaking the silence. “To the graduation?”

Eddy looks lost and pained. He shrugs, but he's too tense for the gesture to look natural. “I don’t know, bro. I don’t think it’s my place…”

“What do you mean?” Brett swallows. “Of course, it’s your place. I want you there. I’m inviting you…” His chest tightens. He feels like his anxiety is threatening to resurface. All he knows is that he can’t graduate without Eddy there. He doesn’t know why. It’s just how it is. He needs him.

Eddy shrugs, unconvinced. He puts the invitation on Brett’s desk and shakes his head. “I’m not…” He pauses. “It’s not…” Doesn’t seem to find the words. “I’m so proud of you Brett. I really am. It’s just not my place. It’s not. I wouldn’t…” He opens his mouth to continue. Doesn’t know what else to say. Closes his mouth, defeated.

Brett sinks down on his bed. There’s a weight on his chest. He doesn’t understand where it comes from. It makes it hard for him to breathe. He looks at Eddy. Eddy who’s standing there, in his room, looking utterly defeated.

“You’ve got to be there, Eddy,” he whispers, trying to make sense of the storm in his chest. “It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”

“Brett, be serious…”

“No, I’m serious. All of this…” Brett makes wild gestures towards the room, his violin on the table, himself… He doesn't know how to explain what he feels, how to make Eddy understand. “All of this… the violin… the music. It only ever made sense with you Eddy… You have to be there. I need you there. It doesn’t make sense if you’re not there. Please.”

It’s like something’s tearing through his chest. He looks up at Eddy, standing there, mouth half opened, feline eyes looking shaken, and oh, god… oh God. He’s loved him for so long without even knowing what it was. He thinks that maybe he took it all for granted. Eddy was always there. He never imagined a life where Eddy's not there. He doesn't want a life where Eddy's not there, next to him. He’s scared. Scared to lose him, and scared of what it means that it feels like heartbreak to do so. He thinks that he might be in love and it's so scary that he forgets how to breathe.

“Don’t say that,” Eddy says, kneeling in front of him, one hand on Brett's knee as he tries to stop him from spiralling. His voice is so quiet. Brett’s never heard Eddy’s voice so quiet. He’s never seen Eddy’s eyes so dark. The desire in them makes Brett shiver. “Don’t say that,” Eddy repeats, barely a whisper. “You’ll break my heart.”

Every synapse in Brett’s brain is flashing furiously, telling him to stop there, abort before the damage is done. But Brett’s already too far gone. Eddy's eyes, Eddy's hand on his knee, that want in him that burns like a fire... He raises his hand, brushes his fingers along Eddy’s cheek, marvels at the way his eyelashes flutter. He’s never wanted someone like this before. It's so sudden and so much. Sure, he likes flirting. He enjoys seducing people. It’s a sport. But he’s never felt anything quite like what he’s feeling now, with Eddy’s dark eyes looking up at him, boring into his. 

“Eddy…” 

With his thumb, he follows the curve of Eddy’s lips. He shudders when they part and Eddy takes his finger in his mouth. It’s wet and warm and perfect, and it's like a promise. Eddy’s tongue caresses his thumb, he sucks lightly, and Brett’s heart beats in his ears. It’s like he can’t stop himself. It’s too late now anyway. Slowly, he pulls his finger out and wets Eddy’s lower lip. Then he drops his hand to Eddy’s neck and gently pulls him forward. Eddy comes easily, still on his knees, his eyes almost shy under his dark eyelashes. Their lips meet. 

“Stay,” Brett whispers in Eddy’s ear as he pulls him into the mattress.

> _Brett’s fourteen and Eddy’s thirteen. They’re learning to play duets together. They’re huddled together on the sofa as their teacher answers an important phone call. Their knees touch and Eddy giggles at some stupid joke Brett just made.  
>  Suddenly Eddy looks up. His giggle stops and he’s serious again. “I wish we could stay here like this forever,” he whispers. _
> 
> _Brett opens his mouth to answer, but their teacher comes back._

It’s nearly midday when Brett wakes up. His body aches and his head feels so light. His mind is overflowing with the memory of feathery caresses and breathless moans. Eddy's skin, so warm against his. Eddy's lips, so soft around him. Eddy's whimpers, so quiet against his mouth. Brett feels like the fire in his chest is never going to go out. But he shivers. 

His bed is cold and he’s alone.

The invitation is not on the desk anymore, but he knows Eddy’s not going to be there comes graduation day.

Just like he knows that he’ll be waiting on the street corner next Friday. And the Friday after that. And every Friday until the day his fingers are too old and weak to hold a violin and bow anymore. Until that day, he’ll keep waiting for Eddy on that street corner. He can’t explain why.

He has no words to describe how Eddy is everything to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah... I don't know...  
> Thanks for reading


End file.
